Another Fine Mess
by notesofwimsey
Summary: Everyone teeters on the edge of getting it wrong, but will everything work out in the end? Pure fluff:DL, FS. Sequel to my previous story Messed Up: fits between Chaps 23 and 24, rated M for language and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: These scenes are the ones some people felt were missing between Chapter 23 and Chapter 24 in my posted story Messed Up. I've filled in some blanks and upped the rating to M for language and adult situations. In order to get the back story, you will want to read Messed Up first. _

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to CSI:NY, its writers, producers and CBS. I promise to put them away neatly when I am done._

Another Fine Mess

Chapter 1: Cuddling Party

Danny tried, he really did, but the groan tore out of him when a sobbing Lindsay moved against him. Instantly she pulled away.

"Oh, Danny, I'm sorry! Your poor ribs."

He pulled her back, not without another grimace of pain. "Hey, don't go anywhere. What's a little pain between friends?"

"I couldn't tell you before, Danny. You're such a cop …" Her voiced died off as he looked at her.

"What does that mean?"

She flushed a little. "You're so like my dad."

"Well," he said with a hint of shock. "That's a buzz-killer if I ever heard one."

"Actually," she said quietly, "It's the biggest compliment I could give you."

She sat back down in the chair, urging Danny to lie back down and relieve the pressure on his ribs. He wouldn't let go of her hand, though. He had not let go all through the story, which she had told as if putting a statement on the record. Having heard it now, Danny wondered how many times she had given that identical statement in the past few years.

"Okay, Lindsay. I need more here. I get that you felt let down, betrayed by your family cutting you off …" he looked at her quizzically, waiting for her to take up the story, but she looked away.

"Let's go another way, then. Why New York?" Now that she was talking, he wasn't going to let her stop.

Lindsay looked up, a light in her eyes for the first time in days. "Well, maybe I was tired of looking at wheat!" She grinned when he let out a shout of laughter.

"See, I knew there was nothing to it! So you ran away to the Big Apple?"

"I met Mac at a conference – I was giving a paper …"

"On forensic work in small communities…" Danny supplied, then grinned at her shocked look.

"You checked me out?" There was a hint of outrage in her voice.

Danny shrugged. "Cop, right?"

Lindsay tucked that away to use against him later. "Anyway, long story short," and a world of pain she didn't want to re-visit, "I had changed my name, taken Anna Monroe's. My father … had cut me off by then, and I needed to start again. Mac gave a presentation about the lab here; it sounded like a dream come true. So I sent him a letter and a resume."

She cleared her throat, and continued, "Besides, Anna wanted me out of the Montana office; there had been some threats."

Danny sat up quickly when Lindsay's eyes filled with tears, then swore viciously as the pain took his breath away.

"Danny," she started, but he stopped her by pulling her up on the bed.

"Stay here, and I'll stop having to move." He urged her around until she was tucked in beside him, his good arm around her, her head on his shoulder. "Now, don't stop. You can tell me anything, you know?"

She was silent for a moment, then looked up at him. "Yes," she said simply, "I can tell you anything."

"So there were threats," his arm tightened convulsively. "What did your captain do about that?"

Lindsay laughed a little bitterly, "Well, seeing as he was one of the ones involved, the original threats came from him. Then there was the new captain. He said he understood what I had done, and why I had done it, but he wanted me gone, 'for my own safety'. My family refused to talk to me. There was just nothing to stay for."

The tears were falling again; Danny could feel the heat of them on his skin.

"Mac knew, of course, although I didn't tell him about my family's involvement. Anna might have. She was so angry at my father."

"Shouldn't she have been? Lindsay, you did the right thing. That should have counted."

"Talk to IAB if you believe that, Messer. No one likes the watchdog. My dad believed in the code – cops for cops. He wasn't involved in the corruption; he was too good for those kinds of games. But to take down your own, especially family…. You don't understand, Danny." She rolled over to look him in the face. "My father put everything into the job. After my mom died, it was all he had. I betrayed the family when I went after cops."

Danny nodded. The thing was, he did understand Lindsay's father. He just thought he was wrong. "Lindsay, your brother betrayed the code, too, didn't he? Why take it all out on you?"

Lindsay closed her eyes. "I didn't say it made any sense. Tim was my father's boy, through and through. I don't know how they've dealt with their relationship. Knowing my dad, they haven't. I broke more than a corruption ring; I broke the family."

Danny couldn't say anything else. Her voice was so defeated, so lonely. All he could do was hold her. The pain meds had finally kicked in and he was trying as hard as he could to stay with her, but he could feel himself drifting off, muscles relaxing.

Lindsay felt the change in him when the pain finally went away, and decided they had talked enough for now. She closed her eyes and snuggled in, chuckling a bit when she thought of a story Stella had told about Danny and her investigating a "cuddle party". She thought he was actually pretty good at cuddling.

When the nurse came through on her rounds, they were both peacefully sleeping, arms around each other. For a moment, she considered waking Lindsay up and sending her home, but she couldn't bring herself to disturb them.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Being a Super Hero

"Messer, what are you doing in today? You're on medical leave." Mac wasn't really surprised to see the young man in the office; Danny still felt he had a lot to prove, and staying out sick didn't fit with his restless nature.

"Can we talk?"

"Okay. My office?"

Danny sat down, a flicker of pain crossing his face as he eased sore ribs in to a more comfortable position.

"Lindsay told me about Montana."

Mac looked up and said, "Good. I told her she should."

"I need to know if you think the threats she received were serious."

Mac sat back. "The threats seemed to have stopped about the time the ringleaders went to jail. Why? Do you think she's being threatened now?"

Danny moved his shoulders uncomfortably. "I don't know." She hadn't said any more about their conversation after they had woken up in the hospital: just helped him get up and waited while the doctor examined him. Then they had taken a cab to his place and she had made sure he was okay before going home to get ready for her shift. He hadn't seen her since.

"I know how you feel, Danny." Mac came around to the front of his desk, and leaned against it, as he did when the conversation became personal and not official. "You want to go after the bastards that hurt her."

"Yeah. Problem is, at least some of those bastards are her father and brothers. I know a little about that." Danny's face was grim.

Mac reached out and touched Danny's shoulder, giving him a little shake. "You know what, Messer? I'm not sure she needs a knight in shining armour here. Lindsay's dealt with it, as far as she can. You can't do anything else."

"Yeah." The Staten Island was thick in Danny's voice as he stood to leave. "But it don't sit right, Mac. That's all I'm saying."

He walked down to the office he shared with Lindsay. He had lost a little time with the pain medication, and he couldn't remember whether she was working or not. It didn't matter; he had lots to do, including the paperwork on his "flying" collar. For the first time since she'd stood him up for dinner, he didn't feel sick when he looked at her empty chair across from his desk. They might not be all good, but they were working on okay, at least.

He looked up when a deep voice interrupted his reverie.

"Whoa, Spiderman! I thought you'd be out spinning webs and fighting crime!"

Flack came into the office with, Danny was glad to see, a cup of steaming hot coffee, which he put down on the desk, gesturing hospitably. A little suspicious, Danny took a sip. It was perfect.

"Okay. What do you want, Flack?"

"Hey, can't a guy bring a friend a cup of coffee? What makes you think I want something?"

"I know you."

"Okay, okay. The kid you took down? He's claiming police brutality. I need to take your statement."

Danny stared in surprise. "Brutality? Kid walks into a cop bar with a gun, leads us a run over the rooftops, nearly jumps off into the wide blue yonder, and I'm in trouble for knocking a little sense into him?"

"'Course not. I was there, remember? You didn't have time enough to give him a shot before laying yourself out too. You might be considered a little over-zealous – like zealous enough to jump off a roof, anyway!" The two men shared a grin at the memory.

"Still, it's just a formality." Flack's sincerity seemed a little forced.

"And what else?" When Flack mimed confusion, Danny glared at him. "Come on, Flack! I told you, I know you. What else do you want?"

Flack closed his eyes and shook his head. He had told Stella it wouldn't work. Guys didn't "talk" about stuff. Cravenly, he decided to throw it back on her.

"Stella wants to know if you and Lindsay…" he couldn't go on.

"If me and Lindsay what?" Danny was ruthless. Privately, he admitted he was kind of enjoying Flack's squirming. Teach him to get involved with Stella.

"You know … talked. Did you guys work things out?" Flack's eyes were still shut.

Danny sat back and waited until the detective's eyes opened; then he looked at him cockily. "Tell Stella …" the pause went just a little too long. "Tell her to mind her own business."

Flack glared at the man he thought of as a friend. "You kidding me? You think that's going to work? Messer, give me something here."

Danny shook his head. "No way. Stella wants to know, she's got to ask. I'm not blowing this by flapping my mouth."

Flack nodded his head. "So, there's something to blow, is there? Well, that will do for now." He grinned at the hint of dismay on Danny's face, then went on briskly, "Now, about the pursuit. Detective Messer, at what point did you notice the suspect was armed?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Dishing the Dirt

"Lindsay! Wait up!" Stella ran up behind her, and slipped her hand into Lindsay's arm. Lindsay winced; she should have known she wasn't going to be able to sneak in without getting caught.

"Hey, Stella. Where did you guys go last night?" Lindsay hadn't missed the looks Stella and Flack had been giving each other the night before at the hospital, or the fact that Stella had walked out between Don and Mac. She knew something was up.

"Are you trying to deflect me, Detective Monroe? I'll give you one for one. When did you leave the hospital?"

"8:00 this morning. Where did you and Flack have dinner?"

"Murphy's, and Mac went with us. Did you spend the night in Danny's room?"

"No, in his bed. How did Mac take the news?"

"He's solid. You slept with Danny?"

"Well, perhaps 'cuddled' would better describe it." Lindsay couldn't help but add, "Grandmother, what big eyes you have!"

Stella pulled her into an empty room. "Okay, game over! What happened? Don't leave out anything."

"We talked. That's it. He kept sitting up, which hurt, so I lay down beside him. We fell asleep. That's it," Lindsay said more insistently in the face of Stella's obvious disbelief.

"Did you take him home, at least?" Stella's voice betrayed her disgust at Lindsay's tameness.

"Yes, and I left him there. Stella, he had a concussion, a broken arm, and three broken ribs. What did you think was going to happen?"

"I'm sure you could have come up with something," Stella sighed, "Or don't they do that sort of thing where you come from?"

"You might be surprised," Lindsay muttered, turning away. "Look, Stel, we have some things to work out. I'm not jumping into bed with him until I've dealt with some stuff."

Stella moved in front of Lindsay until she could look her in the face again. "If this were just sex, you two would have jumped long ago. Whatever you need to work out, he needs to be part of it."

Lindsay looked at her, "Do you think I don't know that? Why do you think I keep pulling away? It would be so much easier if we didn't work together – or if he wasn't a cop. I don't think I can do this again."

"Again?" Stella looked at Lindsay, trying to will her to explain, but the younger woman just shrugged helplessly and turned away. "Lindsay, I know you're a long way from home. But if you need something…"

"Now you're making me feel like Dorothy Gale, Aunty Em. How many times do I have to tell you people I'm from Montana, not Kansas?" Lindsay tried to smile. "I hear you, Stella. I really do. It'll be okay; I'll make sure of that. Now, tell me about dinner with Don and Mac. Are you sure Mac is okay with this?"

Stella sighed, "Why does everyone assume that Mac has any say over this?"

Lindsay laughed before she could help herself. "Oh, Stella, seriously. I can just see Flack. How terrified was he?"

Stella tried to keep the grin under control, but it burst out. "Well, he definitely could have waited a long time before facing Mac with it! That's why I had to push, Linds. We could have drifted along forever the way it was."

"So," Lindsay paused a moment, then drawled out, "How WAS it?"

Stella blushed, a sight Lindsay had never thought to see. "IT hasn't happened yet."

"Oh," Lindsay was a little surprised, but then she smiled broadly. "That's lovely."

"It is?" Stella looked at her in surprise.

"Well, yeah. Unless it hasn't happened because one of you doesn't feel that way about the other…?" Her voice trailed off questioningly.

Stella thought back to the increasing heat between Don and her. She could feel him come into a room. He shivered when she brushed against him. The kiss they had shared at Stella's doorstep the night before left them both breathless. "I'm pretty sure we feel the same way about each other. We just haven't taken the next step."

Lindsay's smile went soft and brilliant. "Then I think you should just let things take their course, Stella. When it's right, it'll be right all the way."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Holding Each Other Up

"Danny, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home?"

Danny smiled as Lindsay hurried down the hallway towards him.

"Hey, Mon … Lindsay," he stumbled over the name he had given her unwittingly, without realizing the pain it must have caused her.

Lindsay's eyebrows rose as far as they could. "Lindsay? Since when do you call me Lindsay? Oh…" Realization struck. "Look, come in here a minute." She led him into the same office Stella and she had just left.

"Listen, Linds, I'm sorry about the Montana thing. It must have grated every time I did it. You should'a told me."

"I did tell you," Lindsay pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but …" Danny squirmed.

"Several times, actually." Lindsay pointed out mercilessly.

"I know, but … come on, Linds. You know if you'd told me – really told me – I'd have stopped."

"Oh, I shouldn't think so!" Lindsay laughed at the sheepish look Danny gave her, then reached out and put a hand on his arm. "I liked it. It made everything normal. I grew up with five brothers, Danny: five! Teasing was family code. When you called me Montana, it made coming here seem okay – eventually."

Danny's cocky grin, which had been noticeably absent around the lab for the past few months, re-surfaced. "I knew you liked it!" His hand rested on hers, and he pulled her a little closer.

"I said eventually. Shouldn't you be home…?" she nearly added _in bed_, but thought better of it.

He seemed to pick up on the unspoken thought, though, and the grin deepened as his arm slid around her to pull her even closer. Lindsay put up a hand to push him away, and accidentally caught him in the ribs. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head.

"Oh, Danny, I'm sorry – again!" Lindsay jumped away when she realized what she had done. Danny reached out and grabbed her before she could get too far.

"I should make you kiss that one better, Montana." His voice was a low growl, a little breathless, although he wasn't sure if that was from the pain or the scent of Lindsay in his arms. "If you'd told me all I had to do to get you this close was jump off a roof …" His mouth met hers.

Everything she was going to say – like, "Not in the office!" and "What if Mac sees us?" – just disappeared beneath the touch of his lips on hers. She had not known that heat could travel so quickly through her body, had never felt an electric jolt brush through her like that. She couldn't stop her body from pressing against his, her mouth from opening to his.

He pulled away first, his eyes a little glazed over. When his knees gave out, it took Lindsay a moment to realize that he was falling, literally. She braced to take his weight, but nearly ended up on the floor with him. She tried to ease him down.

"Danny! God, Danny! What happened?" She patted his cheeks and rubbed his hands, and was one minute from going to find Hawkes, when his eyes flickered, then opened.

"Whoa, what the hell happened?" He cocked his aching head to one side, trying to hold it in one hand and his ribs in the other. Seeing as the other had a cast, this was not working too well for him. "Did you slug me?"

Lindsay laughed, partly in relief, partly at the distrustful look he was giving her. "No way, Messer! I just kissed you stupid, that's all!" She grinned mischievously and whispered in his ear, "The next step might kill you!" Then she burst into laughter at the stunned look on his face.

Stella came running into the room just as Lindsay succeeded in helping Danny to his feet. "What happened now?" she asked, not sure whether to panic or laugh.

Lindsay glanced at Danny, who was shaking his head, and smirked. "Danny took a powder. I'm going to send him home, Stella; he shouldn't even be here today."

Stella took one long look at Danny, who was pale as a ghost, and at Lindsay, who was tucked under his arm like a crutch, and stifled the grin that was threatening to spoil the moment. "I think you'd better go with him, Linds. Your shift is over in a couple of hours, isn't it? And we don't have a case pending at the moment. Go on; I'll clear it with Mac."

Lindsay glared at Stella, but then looked at Danny. Obviously he had kept going on pain meds and grit, both of which appeared to have run out. She couldn't just stick him in a cab and hope he made it into his apartment. "He's too wiped for anything to happen," she rationalized. "Surely I can keep things professional?"

But she could still feel the burn of his lips on hers, and still feel her heartbeat going a little too fast for comfort. To be honest, she was anything but sure.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Nursing the Hurt

It was a quiet cab ride to Danny's. He dozed uneasily, the meds having worn off and the pain having come back full force. He could feel Lindsay beside him, but she seemed a long way away. He was back behind the glass again, where he seemed to have been for too long.

When they got to his apartment, Lindsay paid the driver, even though he tried to get his wallet out first. She helped him out of the cab, which seemed to take far too long, and then up the far too many stairs. By the time they got to his door, he couldn't hold his keys, his hands were shaking so badly, and Lindsay had to take them from him. She followed him down the hall to his bedroom, and watched him collapse, making sure he made it onto the bed. She pulled his shoes off and pulled the covers over him.

She looked for his pain meds in his bathroom, his kitchen, all the logical places. Thinking this through again, she went back to the living room and found them beside the chair in front of the TV. It was probably where he had been the last time he had taken them, before deciding to come in to work.

She shook a couple on to her palm, and put the bottle back where she had found it, figuring that was where Danny would naturally look. She took the pills and some water back to Danny, and had to wake him up to make him swallow. His face was white with pain, and she couldn't stop the mixture of frustrated sympathy that flooded out of her.

"Odd," she thought. "I remember Dad being so patient with Mum when she was sick. I just feel angry." For a minute, the urge to ask her father if he had felt this anger was overwhelming.

Danny reached a hand out when she turned to go, "Don't. Stay."

"I won't go anywhere. I'll just be in the other room."

"No. Here." He patted the bed and moved a little so there was room for her.

She hesitated, torn between what she wanted and what she thought was prudent. Then, with a sigh, she slid onto the bed beside him, and put an arm carefully over him, trying to avoid the sore ribs. He made a funny little snort of contentment, and went to sleep.

Lindsay lay beside him, feeling his heart beating, listening to his breathing. Over and over, she could see him jump off the roof, arms and legs pumping to give him the impetus he needed to cross the gap between buildings. Don Flack, when he had made her go for coffee in the hospital, had described how Messer and his buddies had spent their childhoods on the rooftops of New York.

"People don't look up, you see?" he explained. "So you can get around faster and not be noticed as much. Danny says he used to be able to get across town without ever touching the pavement."

It hadn't helped, although she appreciated the attempt. She was afraid to close her eyes in case this time he didn't make it. She had seen what happened to a human body reaching terminal velocity. She shivered and moved a little closer to Danny. He was fine, she told herself – a little sore, a little tired, a lot drugged. It wouldn't take him long to be completely over it, basking in the glow of admiration from the men who had heard the tale.

Lindsay didn't think she would ever get over it.

When Danny woke up, he was alone, with only a warm place in his bed to show where Lindsay had been, and a note in the kitchen: "Take your pills. I'll call later. L.M." On the stove was a heated pot of soup.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Making Decisions

Lindsay had gone back to work even though her shift was over by now, which earned her another rolled-eyes, disgusted look from Stella. She reported to Mac, letting him know Danny was out for at least the day (not that he was surprised by that) and went back to her office to finish the masses of paperwork that never seemed to diminish. It was quiet in the lab; as Stella had said, there were no big cases pending, and though there was, as usual, plenty to do, none of it was urgent.

She liked the office like this – placidly busy – but, like the rest of the CSIs, she loved the rush of putting together a case, of digging deeper into the evidence and finding out what had happened. Maybe if she hadn't been so good at that she'd still be at home in Montana, with her dad and brothers, with friends from high school, with Peter, the man she'd been seeing for nearly a year before her investigation took off in a frightening and personal direction.

She couldn't blame Peter for backing off, she though now. He was a cop, too, and although he, like her father and many others, had been exonerated, the smear was too deep. He was another one on her growing list of "people-she'd-detectived-right-out-of-her-life".

Idly staring down the hallway, she suddenly remembered Danny's face, months ago, looking at her through the glass as his badge and gun were taken from him. He had hurt so badly over that – it was as if Mac had stood by and let IAB pull the skin off him – and yet, Danny had come back. He had worked hard to overcome the distrust of some members of the squad, and to earn the faith Mac, Stella, Flack and the others had had in him.

She remembered telling him he didn't understand. If anyone could, it would be Danny. She rested her hands in her head. She'd done it again – so sure she was right she couldn't see past it to look at someone else.

"Hey, Linds? You okay?"

It was Flack's voice, Flack's hands which passed her a handkerchief (a real one, she noted) to wipe her eyes. She looked up, and tried to smile. "Long day – night – whatever, I guess." She did not blow her nose, but passed him back the linen square and grabbed some disposable ones to finish that job. He grinned, and tucked it back into his pocket.

"Always the practical one," he thought, amused.

"You take Danny home? Stella says he cracked up."

"Yeah. I think he was a bit buzzed, you know? Thought he could do anything; then the pills ran out and so did he."

Flack grimaced, remembering his own weeks of pain meds and physio after the bombing. Every day he got out of bed without pain, he thanked whatever higher power had been watching out for him.

"He's okay, though, Lindsay. The doctors promised me. A couple of days and he'll be his old self again."

Except he hadn't been, Flack finished the thought. Not for quite a while. And without meaning to, without planning to, Lindsay was responsible for at least some of that.

Lindsay seemed to follow him down that road, "He's been off for a while, hasn't he? His brother, Aiden, you getting hurt…"

"You." Flack's tone was non-judgmental.

Lindsay nodded, accepting her measure of blame. "Yes, me. I don't know what to do, Don."

"You told him you liked him. Was that just a way to let him down easily?" Don's voice remained flat, but Lindsay looked up to see him watching her the way he did a suspect.

"No. I do like him, more than like him. But things aren't that straightforward…" her voice tailed off as he shook his head firmly.

"No way, Monroe. This isn't one of those Kate Ryan/Meg Hudson chick flicks where the girl makes up some stupid reason she can't be with the guy she likes for an hour and forty minutes, just so they can have a chase scene through the airport and a touching moment on the plane, which she boards completely illegally, by the way. Where's the security? Pisses me off."

Lindsay nodded in recognition – she had about ten variations on that theme on her DVD shelf, right down to the moment on the plane or the highway or the moon, or wherever, when she always teared up.

Sure he had her attention, Flack went on, "This is a real person, with real feelings – maybe too many of them. He's not very good with this stuff, ya' know?"

She nodded again, although she thought Danny was better at dealing with his feelings than most people knew. He had certainly laid them out for her.

"I don't know anything about what you two are going through. But I do know that he'd rather fight and lose than do nothing. Don't leave him out of it until the last 10 minutes, okay?"

Lindsay looked up at Don's serious face. She knew that Danny was one of Don's best friends, but also knew that all this "talking" stuff wasn't really their thing. She would have assumed Stella was behind it, but Don didn't look hounded enough for that. It seemed to be coming from him alone.

"If I promise, really promise, that I'm not just putting Danny through this as some kind of weird female plot imperative, will you trust me?" She waited until he nodded, a bit reluctantly, she thought. "I hear what you are saying, but there are some reasons, good reasons, why Danny and I shouldn't be together right now. The only problem is," her voice dropped so low he had to move forward to hear it, "I'm having a little trouble remembering what they are right now."

"Then maybe they aren't good enough. Are you going to see him later, or should I go over?" Flack stepped back to the door, feeling that he had at least made Lindsay think about the situation with a little more balance than she had shown so far.

"I'm going back now. I'll tell Danny to call if he needs you later, okay?"

Flack turned back, uneasy at the implication Danny would need someone after Lindsay left, but she had turned away from him, and was gathering up paperwork to file before she left. He heard her voice, "Trust me," ringing in his head, and knew he had no choice, at least for the moment.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Getting to Normal

By the time Lindsay returned to the apartment, Danny had showered (with a bag over his cast so it wouldn't get wet), changed into clean clothes, washed the dishes (a little awkwardly) and was watching TV. He opened the door when she knocked and grinned down at her.

"What's up, Montana? Thanks for the soup! Come on in."

"It wasn't homemade like the one you made for me." She was carrying take out boxes from his favorite Italian restaurant.

"S'okay. You didn't clean my toilet either. Smells good – what'd you get?"

"Fettucine alfredo for me; puttanesca for you. Sound good?" Lindsay went through into the kitchen to grab forks and something to drink. "Danny, do you have any Diet Coke?"

He appeared at the doorway, shaking his head. "That stuff'll kill you, Montana. Try milk or water. There's a couple of beer in the fridge, but I can't join you there."

"Uggh. Do you know where milk comes from?" She grinned as she brushed past him.

He reached out and stopped her. "C'm here a sec'." He wrapped his arms around her and held on for a breathless moment. "You smell good, too," he mumbled into her hair.

"That's the puttanesca sauce." She pulled gently out of his arms and sat on the couch, holding out a fork. He took it from her and reached for his pasta.

"Hey, you can move. Ribs feeling better?"

"Yeah. Not going to do any sit-ups for a couple of days, but at least I can almost breathe again." Danny was zoning a little on painkillers and on relief that Lindsay had come back. He had been wondering if he had just dreamed her in bed with him, but the smell of her hair had been on his pillow when he woke up, and he was pretty sure he couldn't have hallucinated anything that unexpected: a kind of spicy, crisp scent.

"What are we watching?" Lindsay gestured to the TV, which was on, muted.

"Oh, hockey. But it's California against Florida, which is wrong on so many levels. I can turn it off." He went to click the Off button, but Lindsay shook her head.

"No, that's okay. Leave it on."

"You into hockey too? Montana doesn't have a team, does it?"

Lindsay shook her head, mischief lighting her eyes, "No. I had to follow the Blackhawks growing up – not sure what my dad saw in them. I always had a secret hankering for the Maple Leafs, though."

Danny groaned, "Well, at least you didn't have to worry about losing a bet in the Stanley Cup if you were rooting for the Leafs! Wait a minute: you're a New Yorker now. Which team?"

"I refuse to answer on the ground it may get my head punched in at a bar," she answered solemnly. "You're just going to have to work it out." The teasing conversation felt normal, she realized. It was so good to feel normal with Danny again.

When they had finished eating while simultaneously tearing apart the Ducks' defense, she grabbed the empty take-out containers and took them into the kitchen, tidying up as she went. "Do you want something to drink?"

"I'll get it. I'm not incapacitated; you don't have to look after me." There was a hint of impatience in Danny's voice. 

Lindsay came back into the living room with a glass of water, which she put on the table beside him. "I was up, Danny. No big deal."

"Sit down."

"What?" she said as she obediently took a seat beside him on the couch again. She turned to face him, curling her feet under her.

"Lindsay, I appreciate the food – that was great. And I'm glad you came over. But I don't need looking after. What I do need is to finish our conversation."

"You know," Lindsay said slowly, "I was just thinking how good it felt to be normal with you again. If we go back to that conversation, it could get weird. Are you sure you want that?"

Danny grabbed her hand, which had been restlessly running over the back of the couch.

"We can't go back, Lindsay. I need more than that. Weird or not, we have to keep moving."

Lindsay thought back over the past few weeks. She knew Danny was right, but she felt the ice that had encased her for so long begin to solidify again. What if he was wrong? What if weird was too weird, and they couldn't even go back to this comfortable working relationship?

"Well, I guess then I get to see the Leafs on a regular basis when I take the job in Toronto," Lindsay thought with a sigh.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Sharing Strength

Stella waited at the bottom of the stairs for Flack to come on shift. They had already agreed to meet the next day when they both had a day off, but she felt anxious when she didn't see him. Anxious wasn't quite the right word, she thought idly as she shivered in her winter coat. Unsettled? Disconcerted? Ill at ease?

She had to laugh at herself. It must be … she shied away from the word love … it must be a serious obsession when she went through the thesaurus to find the right word to describe feelings she wasn't sure she had!

She was looking down the street in the direction Flack usually came when she felt him behind her. She couldn't have explained how she knew. It was the same in the office: she knew when he was in the building, when he left. So far, she had not had to worry about knowing when he was hurt, but she shivered just the same. How was she going to handle that?

"Stel!" Don's voice was warm with pleasure. "Aren't you off shift?"

She turned and grabbed his hand. "Just now." Well, an hour or so ago, but she'd been working, she argued with herself. Those papers needed to be filed. "I just wanted to say hi."

He leaned over her, stooped to kiss her, then stopped and looked around. "C'm here." He pulled her into a small alley between the buildings and kissed her properly. "Good morning. That's a hell of a way to start the day!"

She grinned up at him, consciously stopping herself from offering it every morning. "Not bad at all. Certainly better than the way I started my night!"

Don leaned against the wall, and pulled against him. "Oh, yeah? What happened?"

"DB in an elevator. Old building, broken elevator. Been there a couple days." Stella shuddered at the memory; it was the smell, she thought, that you never quite got rid of.

Don squeezed her in sympathy; he knew all about the smell. "Funny," he thought, enjoying the warmth of her in his arms, "I can't smell it on her. She smells like the ocean: fresh and sort of wild." He rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment longer, then reluctantly stood up. "Guess I better check in."

Stella opened her mouth to agree when her pager went off. "No, no, no, no, no!" Her temper flare gave her eyes a brilliant light. "I'm off, dammit, dammit, dammit!"

"I guess with Danny out, Mac's short-handed. Come on; let's see what he wants." Flack could feel his pager vibrating as well, so he was pretty sure they were being called in together. "Maybe this time the DB won't be puffing up."

They spent the rest of the day investigating the death of a newborn baby girl, found wrapped in a blanket and left on the roof of a building. When they found the 13-year-old mother, who lived in the building, she denied ever having been pregnant. Social Services had to be called when the girl's father tried to beat her to a pulp for daring to have sex, which the girl also denied. It was ugly, sordid, and unbearably sad.

Stella held it all together until the young girl was being taken off by a social worker to juvenile detention. The girl looked her in the eye for a moment and said, almost too quietly to be heard, "She was like a little angel. She never cried. She just went off to sleep. I left her in the prettiest place I could find."

Stella went back to the showers and cried for 10 minutes.

When she finally came out, Flack was waiting for her. He held out his hand and silently pulled her hand through his arm, holding her closely against him. They didn't talk, just walked together through the deserted hallways, but Stella felt his warmth, and knew she didn't have to explain anything to him. The strange thing was that she wanted to.

Don paced beside her, silently, almost like a guard, watchful against anything which might hurt her. He had heard her sobbing in the showers when he followed her into the locker room, but had not wanted to go to her (aside from the problematic issue of being found in the women's shower room at work). He didn't know much about women, he was happy to admit, but he knew better than to stop a smart woman from dealing with her feelings in the way she saw fit. However, he was determined that she would learn to turn to him for help, and the beginning of that campaign was tonight.

They didn't speak, but when he turned into the little Italian take-out place not far from where they worked, she didn't argue. When he ordered her vegetarian lasagne, she didn't argue. And when he walked her back to his car, and helped her into the front seat, and drove to the apartment he had helped her move into after Frankie had attacked her, and came up with her carrying the food, she didn't argue either.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks to all reviewers - I've appreciated all the comments and feedback. Most of what I "see" for these stories has come from the videos and slideshows at youtube, so thanks to the people who post there as well.**

Chapter 9: Speaking of Lovers

"Lindsay?" Danny looked so serious, so unlike his usual mocking self, that Lindsay was a little startled. He was really not going to let things remain where they were. The conversation she had been dreading was upon her, and she hadn't worked it all out, written the script.

She pulled her hand away, stood up restlessly and walked over to the TV where the hockey game had finished. She turned it off, noting without caring as she did that Florida had won. Danny sat silently, waiting for her to settle down again.

"Okay," she sighed, "What do you want to know?" She sounded unbearably weary again, and Danny's conscience gave a guilty flip. He wouldn't back off, though. Hurt or not, she had to come clean, and he had to hear it.

Danny said the first thing that came into his head. "Why did you stand me up?"

Lindsay turned away from him to look out the window. She couldn't look him in the face. "Because Peter phoned me the morning you and I were supposed to meet."

"Is he one of your brothers?"

"No. Peter was a detective with the force in Montana, not CSI. We were together for a year. We had talked of getting married." She turned to face him at that.

Danny struggled to ignore the pain in the pit of his stomach. "Was he involved?"

"No," Lindsay was glad she could at least answer that unequivocally. "After I found out about Tim, I went after all the people I knew, Danny. I was so knocked off centre at the thought that my brother, whom I had always thought of as such a solid person, could have been involved, that I didn't feel I could trust anyone."

Danny nodded, "I can see that."

Lindsay's smile had that bitter edge to it that he wanted to kiss off her face. "No one else did, especially Peter. He was furious when he figured out I had been investigating him. He broke off our relationship and told me he could never trust me again."

Danny held out his hand, until she moved closer to him again and he could pull her back to the couch beside him. They sat silent for a moment. Danny started to speak, but stopped when Lindsay said, "The thing is, he's right. I didn't trust him. I didn't tell him what I was doing. I didn't give him any benefit of the doubt. I couldn't. First of all, I couldn't trust anyone. Second, it was my job. I was good at my job."

Danny reached out for her hands, which were restlessly moving over each other again. He looked at her, searching for the right thing to say. With a pang, he knew he couldn't do anything to take this pain away. Mac was right: he had to let her deal with the betrayal of Montana's force by herself before they could move on.

"Why did he phone?" Danny really hoped he was asking in a spirit of investigative curiosity, but he was afraid his motives were not so pure.

"He phoned to forgive me." Lindsay's voice was flat.

"He phoned, after how long?"

"Nearly three years," she confirmed.

"He phoned to forgive you," Danny said, the disbelief clear in his voice. After a minute he added, "I hope you told him to go fuck himself."

Surprised, she laughed. "Actually, I think I told him to go fuck himself and the horse he rode in on!" she confessed.

Danny's eyes lit up in an answering grin.

"He was still talking, 'trying to explain,' when I hung up. He's called back a few times, but I haven't been answering my phone."

Danny asked the question he had been dreading, "Are you going back?"

She looked up at him, her brown eyes drowning in unshed tears. Without considering the consequences, without thinking at all, he leaned forward until his mouth hovered just over hers.

"Lindsay?" It was a question, a request, a plea.

She answered it when her lips met his.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Finding the Bright Side

Mac looked around the lab. Stella had pulled a double, Danny was out on medical for at least another day, more if he could make him take it, Lindsay was off shift, and probably with Danny, if the rumours he tried so hard not listen to were true. That left Hawkes.

Mac went down to the morgue to find him. Although Hawkes had left the medical side of things for the fieldwork of a CSI, he still liked to keep his hand in. He could often be found dogging Sid, while simultaneously trying to ignore Sid's off-the-wall conversation. The fact that people had reported hearing gales of laughter from various empty rooms, then seeing Sheldon Hawkes walking seriously down the hallway a few minutes later would indicate he was not always successful.

Sure enough, Hawkes and Sid were examining the tiny grey body of the infant left on the roof. Mac wondered if Stella was all right; he should phone and check. Still, he had seen Flack waiting for her at the elevators, and assumed that Don was taking care of her. That was going to take some getting used to, he realized.

"What do we have, Sid?" His voice automatically gentled at the sight of the pitiful little corpse.

Sid looked up solemnly, "Dead in utero, I'm afraid. Poor little thing never had a chance. Mother didn't look after her, so baby wasn't strong enough to get through a compromised delivery. Only 1 kilogram; undernourished. Never breathed on her own. Mother was 13?"

Mac nodded.

"Makes sense. She may not have known she was pregnant: baby was 26 weeks, severely premature. Lungs not yet developed. Even if she had been born in the hospital, the end result would have been the same, I'm afraid." Sid's hands were curiously gentle as he completed his work on the baby.

Hawkes was watching carefully, his face also still with suppressed pain. Babies were the worst, he thought again, and wasn't sure whether he meant the infant on the table or the mother in a room in juvie, already branded a baby-killer.

"I'll get on to the ADA, see if we can work out a deal. The mother needs protection now. Her father would have killed her if Stella hadn't got in the way."

"Stella okay?" Hawkes looked up. There was a tone to Mac's voice he hadn't heard often. Usually it was Danny talking about Lindsay in that peculiar way: resentment, almost, overlaid with an overwhelming pride. "God save me from loving a woman stronger than I," he thought.

Mac nodded crisply. "Flack's looking after her. She'll do. Hawkes, when you're finished, with me. We've caught a case." He walked out, oblivious to the shocked stares of the two men in their scrubs.

"He knows?" Sid said quietly to Hawkes.

"Guess so, " Hawkes answered.

"He okay with that?"

"He's with Peyton, so I guess so."

"Check out the window when you go outside, would you, Hawkes?" When Hawkes looked up, confused, from the sink where he was washing his hands, Sid explained, "I just want to make sure the earth is still on its appropriate axis."

Hawkes laughed all the way upstairs.

The case was of the open and shut variety – the man had been found standing over his dead wife's body, waving a bloody bottle and alternating screaming at her to get up and sobbing her name when she didn't. They processed the scene carefully, knowing that the sentencing would depend on the evidence they could bring to the case. Mac did everything with his usual deliberation; Hawkes with his usual caring precision. When they okayed the body to transport to the morgue, they both stood for a minute in respectful silence before continuing their job. At the end of the day, they were tired and saddened by the evidence of another seemingly normal life suddenly and irrevocably stopped.

"Good work, Hawkes. We can leave the scene secured for tonight, but I don't think we'll need to come back here." Mac looked around the tidy home, seeing pictures of small children with the parents now deeply separated. "Has someone checked about the kids?"

"Patrol got them at school. They've gone to her mother's." Hawkes had checked, of course. Mac respected his investigative skills, but was always impressed by the humanity with which he did the job.

"Hell. I hate these ones." Mac looked around the warm little house which had been destroyed by violence, and wondered how often it had been hurt in the past. He knew from experience that violence usually escalated. "Let's see what records there are on this couple, and then get out of here."

"Hey Mac?" Hawkes asked as they walked out to the car, "Do scenes like this … do they become the norm for you, do you think? I mean, when you see so much, isn't it hard to have any hope?"

Mac thought about Danny coming in to see him about Lindsay, worried about her safety even when he could hardly see straight. He thought about Lindsay's face when she had seen Danny go off the roof. He saw Flack's face staring him, Mac Taylor, down over Stella. He saw the glow on Stella's face when she said how happy she was.

"No, Hawkes. Luckily, we see nearly everything, but some of it is damn fine."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Daring to Ask

Stella let them in and went straight through to the bedroom to change her clothes, leaving Don to put the food out in the kitchen. By the time she was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the food was ready, and Don had even poured her a glass of wine. She sighed when he handed her a plate and seated her at the tiny table in what she liked to think of as her dining nook.

He'd lit the candles on the windowsill beside the table, and had turned on the radio. Soft jazz filled the small apartment.

"I could get used to this," she said, feeling some of the stress of the day wash away under the influence of soft lighting, good food, and soft music.

"Do you want to?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have kicked himself. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, but it was too late now.

"Want to what?" She was paying more attention to the lasagna than to Don.

"Do this. Live together." His voice was so quiet that she thought she'd misunderstood.

"What?" She looked at him in shock, a forkful of lasagna halfway to her mouth.

"I want to do this with you every day, Stella. I want to come home to you, take care of you when you need it. I want to have you in my life all the time, not just after work or on our days off. I love you. Live with me."

His blue eyes bore into hers. She could see the fear in them; the fear he had jumped too fast, done this too soon. But she also saw the certainty in them: it was not too soon for him.

"Don… I don't know what to say," Stella started slowly.

He jumped to his feet, pushing his plate away. "Shit."

"Wait. Don't do that. Give me a second to catch my breath." She reached a hand out to him, but he had turned away. He went to the kitchen to grab his coat, and came back in to the dining room, shrugging it on.

"I'm going to go. I'll call you later." He couldn't believe he had screwed this up. Usually it took him at least a few weeks to make such a mess of things. This time it hadn't taken him any time at all.

"Don Flack, don't you DARE walk out that door." Her voice stopped him dead, but he couldn't turn around.

"I'm sorry. Stella, forget I said anything." He didn't know how to go back on this, to make it all right again.

He caught the scent of her before he felt her arms go around him.

"Give me a minute, I said." She buried her head under his shoulder blade, her arms tight around his chest.

Cautiously, he turned in her embrace, his arms going around her, holding her tightly. She fit in his arms as if she had been designed just for him. He could feel her shaking, and instantly any thought of his own feelings disappeared.

"Stella, don't. Come on, Stella. Don't do that. Stella, it's not worth it. Forget I said anything. We'll pretend it didn't happen…" his voice stopped when Stella looked up at him, laughing eyes bright with unshed tears. Then she was kissing him breathless.

"Just you try to take it back now. Just you try." And her mouth was on his again, her body against his. He had to strain to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart, but the words, "I love you, you idiot," resounded in his ears like the sweetest music ever heard.

His coat slid unnoticed to the floor.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Fanning the Flame

Lindsay turned in Danny's arms, trying to get as close as she could without hurting him. He could feel only the heat of her mouth on his, her body against his. This time, the groan that came from him had nothing to do with pain, and everything with frustrated longing.

Danny stood up, slowly, drawing her body up his until she was standing closely wrapped around him. It was awkward with only one arm, but he was determined to make the most of it. He slid his hand under her t-shirt to touch the soft, smooth skin, then up her back to draw her closer.

With a shudder he pulled away from her a little, and rested his forehead on hers. "God, Lindsay, if you aren't sure about this, you have to leave now."

Instead of answering, she raised her face to his again, opening her mouth under his. When she felt his tongue exploring her lips, it was her turn to shudder. The kiss deepened, and she felt the thrill pour through her body. She had always known that if she gave in to him at all, she would go up in flames.

They broke apart again, briefly, to move down the hall to Danny's bedroom. Danny pulled Lindsay's t-shirt over her head, smoothing her tumbled hair with his hands, kissing her mouth, her throat, the tops of her breasts. Slowly, she helped him take off his sweatshirt, hissing at the bruises on his sides and chest, kissing each darkening mark until he shook. It was slow, languorous, tortuous, but they had all the time in the world.

His mouth claimed hers again, and clothes continued to drop to the floor. They stood together in the middle of the room, rocking in each other's arms. Music drifted up from the street, as if a soundtrack had been provided by the city itself.

Lindsay moved to the bed, sliding in and holding out her arms for Danny. He tried to stop, to ask her one more time if this was what she wanted, afraid that his need for her would overwhelm her need for space and control. But she smiled, knowing what he was thinking, and dismissed his fears. This was what she wanted; he was what she wanted.

Together they slid into the dark velvet world of touch and sigh, of gasp and sob, of dreamy caress and languid movement. Danny drowned in her eyes, her wet heat, her loving arms. Lindsay was filled by his hunger and driven by desperation. Where one went, the other followed. It could have taken hours; it could have taken days, but when they came together, it was the beginning of a journey they knew could take them the rest of their lives.

Lindsay nestled against him silently, her head tucked under his chin. Danny could not close his eyes; he was dazed by his feelings. Sex had always been a relief in his life, a moment out of time. Tonight he felt as if the world had opened up, connecting him in some way to every person on the planet. He wanted to run, shout, scream out his passion from the rooftops. He wanted to stay in this bed, with this woman in his arms, and never leave. He couldn't keep his hands from roaming her body, touching the soft skin, running through her hair.

"Are you okay?" He felt completely tongue-tied. He wanted to write her sonnets, love songs, and play them to the moon and the stars, but all he had was the most basic of words left. She had stolen the rest from him while they kissed.

"Mmmmm." Lindsay felt drugged with pleasure, every inch of her skin loved and cherished. She could hardly contain her glee; she wanted to dance naked through the sky. Never had she felt anything like that, not with Peter, not with anyone. She turned her head to kiss his throat. "Are you? I tried to be careful, but then I forgot."

"Me, too." Other than trying not to whack her with the cast, Danny had not thought once about his injuries. When he did think about them, everything seemed to hurt, but nothing could stop the overwhelming joy he felt. "What's a few ribs between friends?" Teasingly, he spread his hand over her ribs, then tickled her.

She shrieked and giggled, struggling away from him, then changing tactics, grappled closer to him until with a growl he flipped her on her back and took her throat in his teeth.

This time it was fast and filled with mischief. This was what perhaps they had both expected the first time: a laughing, panting, glorious rush and release. But when he watched her come the first time, Danny saw stars in her eyes, and when they came together the second time, they could feel the earth turning under them.

When Danny woke in the morning, Lindsay was gone again.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Finding the Way

"Damn, damn, damn! Blast it all to hell! Fuck! Where the HELL did she go this time?" Danny muttered as he threw on some clothes and searched the small apartment as quickly as he could. No use. Her clothes were gone; her coat was gone. No note, no Lindsay: no nothing.

He sat down on the couch, his head in his hands. He was hurting – last night's exercise had not helped barely healing and badly abused muscles at all – but he wouldn't have even noticed the pain if Lindsay had woken up with him. He couldn't believe last night had meant nothing to her. He had seen the look in her eyes, and held her in the early morning when they had woken to hunger again, to feast on each other as if they could never get enough. How could she just walk out on that?

He reached for his cell, trying to think of a message he could leave her that would not be too desperate and whiny, and noticed a text message waiting for him. Impatiently, he read it, then his whole body slowed and warmed: LuvU. Back soon. Montana

Smiling, he went and showered, reluctantly washing the scent of her off his body. He could tell, now that he looked around, that she had showered before leaving as well – a damp towel neatly hung up, the top of the shampoo bottle replaced, a new bar of soap.

He sat on the bed and breathed in her scent on his pillows. He grinned foolishly. How bad did he have it? Was it possible to just expire with happiness, he wondered?

He dressed quickly as a plan formulated. Lindsay had gone out to get breakfast, he'd bet his life on it. His trying to feed her had become a joke among their friends, although it was a joke he had found peculiarly un-funny the past few months. However, Lindsay would get it; she had brought him food the night before, although Danny couldn't remember eating it. If she meant the message she had sent, and he had to believe in her or lose his mind, then she would have gone for food. If he really moved it, he could beat her back.

Flowers, candles, music – he'd blown that the night before, but he could make up for it now. He wanted all the trappings; all the romance he had laughed at and used in his other relationships, he wanted now for her. He wanted her to be surrounded by beauty every moment of her life, and he wanted to be the one who gave it to her. He knew that with their jobs, this couldn't happen, but he could do his best when he had the chance. He was going to take it now.

Before he left, he opened a drawer in his desk, took out a small silver box, and slipped it in his coat pocket. He sent a quick prayer to his Nona, the grandmother who had, as much as anyone, raised him, and had died just before Louie hooked up with the Tanglewood boys. "Help me out here, Nona," he said under his breath.

Just as he reached his hand out to the door, though, there was a hesitant knock. Moving a bit too fast, anxious to be gone, he opened the door suddenly, making Lindsay shriek and back up, nearly dropping the bags in her arms.

"Damn, Messer, not fast enough," Danny thought a little bitterly. Why did his plans never work out?

Lindsay looked up to see the flash of irritation run over Danny's face, to be replaced quickly with his old cocky grin. She could feel the warm place she had hugged to her heart all morning begin to chill. He didn't want her here? "I brought breakfast. You … were you going out? Should I leave?"

He could hear it in her voice, the catch of breath, the stumble of pain. He reacted instinctively, reaching out and gathering her in his arms. "I thought you had left. I thought you weren't coming back. I was going to look for you."

Lindsay breathed a sigh of relief which quickly changed to a gasp as his mouth sought hers out. The instant heat unnerved her – would she ever have enough of his kisses, she wondered, a little dazed. He grabbed the bags as they slipped out of her hands and grinned down at her. "So what did you bring? I'm starved."

They shared the bagels and coffee she had brought with her, and the momentary doubt she had suffered was washed away in their banter and conversation, punctuated by touches and kisses that left her edgy and needy. When he kissed her lightly for about the twentieth time, she couldn't take it any more, and kissed him hard, her tongue tangling with his demandingly.

Danny broke the kiss, breathing hard, and rested his forehead against hers for a moment, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "Whoa, Montana – you trying to kill me, here? Let's slow down a little."

"Don't want to slow down," she murmured against his mouth, slipping her tongue between his lips provocatively. "I want it fast, and hard, and again."

Danny just stopped breathing at all at that point. Still, if most of his plan had gone up in smoke, he was determined to get to at least the last step, even if he had to miss all the ones in the middle. He grabbed her hands, which were moving dangerously close to final destination and said, "Lindsay. Lindsay? Let's go for a walk."

She looked up at him, confused, her eyes blurred with desire. She could hardly think for wanting him and he wanted to go for a walk? She was offering him sex (if that's all he wanted) and he was turning her down to walk the dirty streets of New York? In a flash, her heart froze over like a river in winter – solid on the surface, raging underneath. She stepped back, her face now rigid with control. "Sure," she said coolly, "Maybe you can walk me to a cab. I should go home." She turned away.

That was it – Danny panicked. Fuck the plan; romance was not going to fly, he could see. Every time he got a little closer to step one, he stepped on Lindsay.

He grabbed his coat and stuck his hand in the pocket, pulling out the little box. Then he grabbed Lindsay, and flustered, pushed the box into her hands.

She looked up at him. "Danny? What … " Her eyes opened wide as he lifted the lid, his hands shaking around hers. In the box was a gold ring inset with a small pearl surrounded by tiny diamonds. Stunned, she dropped into the nearest chair.

Danny stood in front of her, her hands still wrapped in his. "It was my Nona's," he said simply. "She gave it to me. She said, "Give it to the one who completes you." It's not very big or impressive – my grandfather bought it for her before they came to the States. It was all he could afford – nearly a year's savings. She never took it off until the day she gave it to me. She died a week later. She'd have loved you, Lindsay, nearly as much as I do."

He looked at her helplessly as she began to cry. "Lindsay? What is it?" He knelt beside the chair and gathered her into his arms. "Don't you …if you don't like it, I can get you something else. Lindsay, don't cry. I can't bear it when you cry." He soothed and petted and tried to understand her sobbed words.

"I love it. I love you. I thought you … I thought you wanted me to leave. I thought you were going to say …" Lindsay could hardly get the words out, but her hand was clutched tight around the box with the precious ring inside.

Danny looked at her in shock, almost anger. "Lindsay? Did you think I just wanted to get you into bed? Just sex? Is that all you thought last night meant? Is that why you left?" He jumped up and began pacing. There was no way he could keep still.

"Last night was the most important thing that ever happened to me. When I woke up this morning and you were gone, I thought I'd die. It hurt worse than anything …" He shuddered, remembering the year he had had. He turned to look at her again, but she was on her feet and in his arms.

"I love you, Danny Messer. I love you so much. I've been so afraid for so long, but not with you. You make me strong; you keep me grounded. I am who I want to be when I am with you." The words tumbled out as Lindsay's lips met his again and again.

Relieved, aroused, distracted: was there a list of essential words he was going to need to describe his reactions to this woman, he wondered? He pulled her close again and whispered against her mouth, "Marry me."

He took the yes from her lips.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 12: Celebrating with Family

_For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name,_

_There is love._

It was a simple wedding.

Danny was fully recovered and cocky with it, as Lindsay had predicted. Lindsay still saw him leap across the alleyway whenever her eyes closed.

Danny was wearing a new dark suit with a blue tie. Lindsay was dressed in a gown of white linen with a jacket made of lace and a fingertip veil. They spoke their vows in front of a priest in the small church around the corner from the police station. Mac gave away the bride. Stella, dressed in blue linen, stood beside her. Flack stood with Danny and tried, with little success, to keep him calm.

Danny's family was sitting in the pews on the groom's side. Louie wasn't there, but Danny's parents were. His mother cried. Most of the lab staff and members of the police force sat on the bride's side to balance things out. No one from Montana came.

The church was filled with flowers. It was filled with music. It was filled with love.

The reception in the back room at Murphy's was full of food, of laughter, of talk, of family: the sort a person grows up with, and the sort a person creates through life.

It didn't take long, Danny thought in a daze, to change your life. A few words, a promise given and returned, and he was a new man.

It took a long time, Lindsay thought, smiling, to change your life. A journey across the years, across the country, across the pain, a promise made to be kept, and she was a new woman.

It took a lot of work, Mac thought, to keep things on an even keel. Perhaps, he admitted, looking around him at the reception guests as he toasted the bride and groom's happiness, he had kept things on too even a keel. Life unbalanced by love and desire had its charms. And he added a secret tip of the head to Peyton.

It would take a lot of convincing, Don thought, to talk his Stella around to sharing what Danny and Lindsay had. Living together was enough, she'd argue; she didn't need a ring and piece of paper to prove she loved him. But tonight he had a ring in his pocket, and he would try to convince her to start a new life with him.

It didn't take long, thought Stella, for the world to turn itself right side up again. Danny and Lindsay looked so happy, as if they had no doubts about what they were doing. She knew Flack had bought her a ring, and she had her arguments in place. But tonight, with Danny and Lindsay glowing in front of her, she may just let him talk her into it.

When it came right down to it, life was simple: friends, family, and love combined to create a light to hold back the darkness.

The End


End file.
